


Watch Over Us

by epistemology, myvividreams



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Another Jason stays with the League and Damian adopts him fic - Freeform, Assassin Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick and Jason overlapped as Robin - Freeform, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, This isn't technically set in YJ but I'm using their timeline - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epistemology/pseuds/epistemology, https://archiveofourown.org/users/myvividreams/pseuds/myvividreams
Summary: The first time Damian met Todd, he was only six, and the first time he learned to live without him, he was only ten. But living in Gotham gave him the chance to uncover things about his older brother that he'd never known before.A universe in which Jason stays with the League instead of returning to Gotham, Dick loses someone he loves, and Damian learns what family is at an earlier age.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 34
Kudos: 281
Collections: DCU Big Bang 2020





	Watch Over Us

**Author's Note:**

> From Epi: Thank you to Vivi for the beautiful art! I appreciate you so so much, my friend <3
> 
> From Vivi: And thank you to Epi for the amazing fic! You're the inspiration, dear friend ;P

The first time Damian met Todd, he was only six.

He’d schooled his expression into something with an appropriate amount of distaste—not especially difficult for him— before turning back to his mother and demanding to know why this servant was deigning to speak to him. It was an unwelcome surprise to discover that he was to be Damian’s tutor, in English and whatever else of which he had the knowledge to spare.

Damian decided early on that he didn’t like him. Todd was brash, coarse, and an utter fool. He knew nothing of the League and was completely uncivilized compared to Damian, who had been raised as a prince.

Yet, try as he might, Damian couldn’t deny that he enjoyed hearing Todd read to him, in languages he understood and ones he didn’t. He enjoyed sparring with him, because unlike everyone else Mother set him against, Todd always helped him up after he beat him and made sure any injuries were tended to. And he enjoyed listening to stories Todd wove of the world beyond the League, the places he’d been that Damian had only ever read about. (Not that Todd had been to a lot of places, but he had a host of stories about each one.)

So, when Todd was sent away for training the first time, Damian naturally followed. Mother had been furious when she’d found out, but after that, she always let him tag along.

It became somewhat of a routine, Damian trailing after Todd wherever he went and Todd’s presence during Damian’s own training. They were rarely apart, and Damian wondered if this was what it was like to have a brother.

  


“Did you have a family?” He dared ask one day. Todd’s face hardened quickly before settling on something comfortably blank.

“I had… people in my life.”

Damian cocked his head. “People like me?” He hoped Todd would ascertain his meaning.

“Uh, not quite like you, but sure. People I was close to, I guess.”

“Do you miss them?”

Todd inhaled slowly. “Sometimes,” he said, releasing the breath. “I try not to.”

“Will you ever go back to them?” Damian squinted up at his face, looking closely for an answer there that he was sure not to get in words. He wasn’t sure what he saw in his brother’s eyes, but whatever it was, it wasn’t happy.

“No.”

He said nothing more, and Damian understood what that meant. _I don’t want to talk about it_. He resolved never to ask again.

Damian took his hand. Todd looked down at the small fingers entwined with his own and smiled. “But it’s okay, Dami, because now I’ve got you.”

“I will never leave you, Jason,” he said seriously.

Damian vowed that day that the only person he would remain loyal to despite everything would be Jason.

Then he was sent to his father.

“What’s going on?”

Damian looked up from the bag he was packing to see Jason, _Akhi_ now, in the doorway. “I’m being sent away.”

“Where? Talia didn’t tell me about leaving.”

The casual manner in which Akhi referred to his mother used to bother him, but Damian had long gotten used to it. “That is because you are not coming. She is sending me to live with my father.”

“Your father?” Akhi stared at him dumbly.

“Yes, that is what I said. She says it is because she wants me to train with him, but I have a feeling she has ulterior motives.”

“What do you mean?” Akhi asked once he had found his breath again. Damian rolled his eyes and let out a small tut, a habit Jason had tried to break but hadn’t succeeded in.

“I do not know, and I do not care to find out. I shall live with my father for the foreseeable future.”

“You’re ten!”

“I’m aware,” Damian said dryly.

“And she’s just kicking you out. On your own?”

“Yes. And may I remind you I can handle myself.” Damian hated it when Akhi underestimated him and treated him like the child he was clearly not. “I doubt she will allow you to visit.”

“Not that I’d want to visit Batman,” he grumbled. Akhi had never liked when Damian brought up his father upon discovering his identity. Damian assumed it was because his brother was from Gotham and therefore had some sort of perception of him that only a civilian there could have.

Damian stood. “You must keep in touch, however you can. I do not know how long I will be there, but I hope I will be able to come home soon.”

Akhi didn’t answer but narrowed his eyes, then turned on his heel and strode out of the room. Damian frowned; he had expected a warmer goodbye, but Akhi returned minutes later with a backpack and a triumphant grin.

“I’m taking you to Gotham.”

“What?”

“I got permission from your mom, assuming I come straight back.”

“I thought you never wanted to return there.”

Akhi’s grin faltered slightly, the only sign that he was lying. “It’ll be worth it to see you off. Besides, I kinda wanna see if it’s changed any.”

* * *

Dick found out about the new Robin from Babs.

He wished he could’ve said he’d handled it well, but that was about as far from the truth as it could get. Still, a shouting match with Bruce was miles below what he’d wanted to do in the moment, which included beating the new Robin to a pulp, a street kid named Jason Todd.

The first time Dick laid eyes on Jason, he felt what he thought might be hatred. It wasn’t quite; he knew that feeling well from back when it had been directed at Tony Zucco in full force. So maybe he didn’t hate Jason, but he certainly didn’t like him.

It took him a few weeks and another fight with Bruce to realize the feeling was jealousy.

When Bruce took Dick aside and gently explained that he’d thought Dick was getting rather stretched thin from all his Titans missions on top of his regular patrols around Gotham, Dick had accepted the act as some misguided form of love. The feeling that he was being replaced diminished with the realization that Batman could benefit from the extra help when Dick was away, though the sour taste in his mouth at the thought that someone else would be wearing his colors, taking his name, remained.

Jason stayed, and Dick learned to tolerate him.

He hadn’t been nice the first time he’d met Jason. In fact, he’d been downright nasty, snarling how there could never be another Robin, how he didn’t need the help, didn’t need a partner, but Jason had simply looked at him with a determined resolution and said, “We’ll see,” walking away and leaving Dick feeling a lot like he’d just lost out on something important.

In the weeks following his conversation with Bruce, he made an effort to be nicer. It wasn’t Jason’s fault that Bruce hadn’t handled any of this well, and if they were going to be living together, they needed to get along. The problem was, Dick couldn’t find it in himself to like the kid, and his only solution was to try desperately to think of him as a little brother. Sure, Jason was only about two years younger, but you weren't supposed to like your little brother, just care enough about them to protect them, and that’s exactly the kind of relationship Dick wanted. Large commitments without the smaller ones.

The next problem came after a few months, when Dick found himself warming up to Jason. He liked his company and always seemed to leave him feeling like he couldn’t wait to hang out with him again. He chalked it up to having someone his age to hang out with, which Barbara had laughed at when he’d told her. It wasn’t until he walked into the kitchen one day to find Jason baking a pie that he’d figured out why.

Seeing Jason, looking so comfortable and so at home, with a little juice from the fresh cherries he’d put in the pie on his cheek, Dick was struck with the thought that he was beautiful. He’d always known that Jason was attractive, but he’d never acknowledged the fact beyond face value. This little picture of domesticity had awakened in Dick a kind of longing he hadn’t realized he had, and suddenly it was centered on Jason. Suddenly, Jason was the only person he could see in any given situation, and as much as he tried to ignore it, all his thoughts kept coming back to him too. Barabara laughed again when Dick told her he’d figured it out.

He and Jason still weren’t exactly close, though, as much as Dick wanted them to be now. He tried, he put in the effort, but it only made Jason suspicious, enough that he cornered Dick after training one time.

“What do you want from me?”

That had made Dick’s blood freeze, both the tone of his voice and the insinuation that his niceties were purely diplomatic at best.

“Nothing! I don’t— I’m not trying to get something out of you!.”

His eyes narrowed. “Then why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

And that really said wonders about their relationship prior to Dick’s revelation that he had a crush.

“Look, Jason,” he said, forcing himself to relax. “I know I wasn’t the nicest to you at first, and I’m really sorry about that. But I promise I’ve realized what an ass I was being.”

There was a long moment where Jason just looked at him, and Dick couldn’t tell if the expression on his face was positive or negative. Then, “Dontcha mean what a _dick_ you were being?”

Dick snorted, and then slapped a hand over his mouth in embarrassment, but Jason just grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I want to make it up to you, Jay. I want us to get along, and not just because Bruce wants us to. What do you say?”

Jason smiled, and for once it was a soft smile, not one Dick had seen on him before. “Okay then, Dickiebird.”

* * *

Damian pulled his cloak tighter around him, rubbing his hands over his arms underneath the heavy material. The city was colder than anywhere he’d ever been, not that he would admit his discomfort aloud, and even if Akhi had certainly already noticed his shivering, he’d be damned before he acknowledged it. This was to be his new home for the foreseeable future; he might as well get used to it. 

Mother had said she’d left a message for his father, no doubt something cryptic and vaguely threatening, so all that was left to do was wait. Damian strained his neck to get a glimpse of his brother’s face, but it remained carefully hidden underneath his hood. He would be leaving soon, even if neither of them were mentioning it.

And so they waited.

Damian wasn’t entirely sure what for, but he had enough tact not to ask, not when Akhi was in one of his silent moods and the few glimpses Damian had managed to get of his face only showed an expression full of sadness. A change had taken place the moment they had arrived.

He busied himself with watching the city, the small people walking on cold streets down below, the gray clouds that worked perfectly at obstructing people’s views of the vigilantes Damian knew were there, somewhere. Across the city, a small flash of blue amidst the darkness; his eyes could barely make out the shape of a person flying. Hadn’t Akhi told him there were no metas in Gotham City?

“Who is that?”

Akhi did not answer, but Damian watched as he silently gazed on the flying man and then turned away sharply, kneeling down so they were on the same level. He pushed back the hood, and as it fell from his face, Damian thought he could see the traces of tears.

A silly thought. Akhi never cried, at least not around him.

“Dami, I want to ask you something very important. I want you to promise to do something for me, okay?”

Damian nodded. He would do anything for his brother. He did not need to know what was being asked of him before he was fully prepared to commit.

Akhi took a slow, deep breath, the kind Damian knew he took when he was overwhelmed. It was supposed to be some kind of grounding technique. Damian did not know why he did it, only that he had things in his life that constantly left him untethered, vulnerable with nothing to hold onto, and that this technique was something he’d leant long ago would help. Damian awkwardly took his hand. He hoped Akhi would hold onto him, even if he knew why he must leave.

“Dami,” he whispered, “I need you to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about me.”

His hold on Damian’s hands tightened, in a way that suggested maybe he was just as scared by this sudden parting.

“You have to promise that you won’t tell anyone my name or any defining details about me, okay?”

“Why?” Damian asked, quiet. The roof was empty, and Damian trusted both his own and his brother’s training, but this moment was one of significance, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak above a whisper.

Akhi shook his head. “I can’t tell you, just— You can say I’m your brother, but no more. No details. This is really important.”

“Okay,” he said.

And that was that.

They said their goodbyes hastily after that, leaving Damian to wait alone on the rooftop, and soon enough, Batman showed up with questions and an offer to stay. And as Damian went with him towards a home that wasn’t home, he could sense Akhi leave, and for the first time in his life, he was alone.

Damian’s arrival to the Manor was less pleasant than he would have liked. Although, the sudden discovery that you have a son raised by assassins and that he would be living in your home for the foreseeable future was not generally conducive to happy, tearful reunions. And besides that, he had the unfortunate of arriving shortly before his father’s supposed arch-nemesis, known only as the Joker, was found dead, his head bashed in by a blunt object. It was likely Akhi had something to do with it; the timing was odd, at the very least, but Damian had promised to say nothing, and he would hold himself to that.

He missed his brother.

The family was nice, if not a bit odd. Besides his father, there was a butler of sorts and another boy, a little older, perhaps sixteen, whom Damian did not like but was civil towards because Akhi told him to play nice, so he would.

He met Grayson a week later, when he visited the Manor to see the Drake boy. Damian was civil to him as well, although the hug he’d received in return had almost made him change his mind.

(He wondered when Akhi would get in touch with him, if he would visit, secretly.)

“So you grew up with the League?” Grayson was asking. He was lounging on the couch in one of the Manor’s many parlors. Damian had tried to count them the day before but had gotten distracted by the library, which he found contained all of Akhi’s favorites.

“Tt. I have already said that, yes.”

Grayson didn’t seem deterred by the blasé attitude. “This must be very different, then.”

“Yes.”

“What’s been the biggest change?”

Damian reluctantly sat in the nearest armchair as he thought. “The weather is colder here, which I do not like. And I am speaking English all the time.” He did not say that he missed his brother. That would be too sentimental.

“Oh, I guess you’re used to Arabic. Your English is good though, if that’s any consolation.”

“Tt. Of course it is. I had a good teacher.”

“Oh?”

“Akhi taught me. It’s his first language, so he understands it. He makes me speak English to practice, but I am not used to speaking it so much. It is good he practiced with me,” Damian finished quietly.

“Who’s Akhi?” Grayson was sitting up now, leaning in slightly as if he was truly interested in the conversation, in talking to Damian.

“Don’t call him that!” He snapped.

“But that’s what you called him.”

“I— yes, but Akhi is not a name, it is a… term of endearment. It means _my brother_.”

“Wait, you have a— Does Bruce know?”

Damian's eyes shot up from where they had been focusing on the patterns in the carpet. He categorically refused to cry in front of this man over something as silly as homesickness. He blinked a few times, for good measure.

“He’s not my real brother. He has simply taken on the role. Father does not have another son he is unaware of.”

Grayson sank back into the cushions and let out a breath. “Whew, good. Because I would not want to have to be the one to explain that to him.”

Damian felt his mouth twitch, involuntarily. He fought it down before Grayson could notice.

“So,” the man drawled, leaning further and further to the side until he was completely horizontal, and then swinging his legs up over top of the armrest. “Tell me about your brother.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

A shrug. Or at least, it looked like a shrug from the strange angle from which Damian was viewing him. “You seem to like him. You two close?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve known him a while?”

“Since I was six.”

“How much older is he?”

“I— Why do you ask?”

“Just making conversation.” A smile played upon his lips, and Damian wondered if he’d succeeded in hiding his own earlier.

“I’m not supposed to talk about him,” he said. The Drake kid would press, but Damian figured Grayson was polite enough not to do so.

“No details. Makes sense if he works for Ra’s.” Grayson nodded sagely, and Damian followed suit, if only to reinforce the idea that what he had said was correct. “Well, you can still tell me non-identifying information, right?”

“I suppose, but why?”

Grayson sat up again and faced Damian, eyes shining with a sincerity Damian had never seen in a person before, bright and earnest and beautiful in the purest sense of the word. “Because I want to make you feel at home here, and it’s obvious your brother is someone you miss. So, maybe you can tell me some things you two like to do together, and, while I can’t promise anything, I can do the best I can to take care of you.”

Damian looked away, eyes trained on the carpet pattern again instead of the expression Grayson wore. “He reads to me, sometimes. I like when he reads books in other languages,” he conceded, and when he chanced a peek upwards, he could see another curious smile on Grayson’s face. The man’s head was tilted ever so slightly, giving the impression of a cat scrutinizing its prey. Whether Damian was truly his prey, or something else, remained to be seen.

“We have a pretty big library here. Have you seen it yet?” Grayson asked, head returning to its usual, upright position, and suddenly he looked harmless again.

Damian rolled his eyes, mostly for show. Couldn’t have them thinking he was comfortable here, not yet. “I have,” he drawled. “It’s not nearly as big as the one back home, but it has many of my favorites, so I suppose that’s something.”

“And what are your favorites? Or, your brother’s favorites, since I assume they’re the same.”

Damian gave him a long, hard look for that. Then he answered. “ _The Lord of the Rings, Anna Karenina,_ and _Le petit prince._ ”

“ _Le petit prince_ , huh?”

“You’ve read it?”

“Not personally, no, but I knew someone who has. It was one of his favorites, too.”

Damian didn’t know what to do with Grayson’s expression now, especially after he had seen the man’s face change in so many ways over the course of their conversation. He was good at wearing masks, Damian could grant him that, but whatever he wore now was no mask but raw, unfiltered emotion.

Damian looked away once again, this time with an air of finality. The conversation was over, whether Grayson liked it or not.

But that did not matter, because Grayson only cleared his throat awkwardly before he spoke again. “Right, well. I should probably get going. B needed help with something in the Cave.”

The man turned and left, ever so graceful in his movements, but for once, his behavior was unsteady.

Damian watched him leave with the distinct feeling he’d said something wrong.

* * *

The buildings in Gotham were tall, and being on top of them made Dick feel like the city couldn’t touch him. Being on one next to Jason made him wish it would.

"You're a good friend, Jay.” The comment broke the silence they’d been sitting in since they landed, tired and out of breath after another round of rooftop tag. Batman would be calling for them any minute. He’d probably already figured out what Dick had really meant when he’d offered some extra training for the new Robin.

"Not brother?" Jason asked, with nothing but curiosity in his expression.

"No! I just meant— I mean we aren't even really brothers 'cause we're not related," Dick fumbled, "and I guess I just meant— You don't really choose your family, but you choose your friends. And I'm glad we chose to be friends," he finished lamely.

Jason raised an eyebrow in a way that evoked Alfred. It reminded Dick that Jason seemed to spend more time with Alfred than anyone else. He'd seen them cooking together and talking about novels they'd read in a way Dick had never been able to. He liked that about Jason.

In the weeks following, Jason’s training grew more rigorous until he had an opportunity to be allowed to do exactly what he was being trained for. Dick’s missions with the Titans were taking up more and more of his time, and Batman needed a Robin when he was away. Jason wouldn’t be a replacement, necessarily, just a stand-in, Dick thought, an understudy. Someone to wear the colors when he was gone, and Dick couldn’t trust anyone in that role more than he trusted Jason.

“What is this?”

He was in the Cave, and Bruce looked baffled. Dick had expected the response. It’s not every day your first sidekick shows you designs for his new costume and superhero identity.

“I thought, well. Jason’s a good Robin, Bruce. And as much as I love being Robin, we don’t really need to share the role anymore, and I think I’m ready to be my own superhero and all now.”

Bruce grunted, a familiar noise that Dick associated with discontent.

“It’s not that I don’t want to work with you and Jay, I do,” he continued, “but I’ve trained with you for over six years now, and I don’t want to be a sidekick anymore. I want to be a partner, but one who can work on his own _and_ help out Batman and Robin when they need it. Like Babs.”

Bruce didn’t look appeased, but then again, he rarely _looked_ anything. Expressing his emotions was never his strong suit.

“What about Jason?” he asked.

“What about him?”

“You two are more partners than you and I are at this point. He may not take kindly to this. I am, of course, assuming you haven’t spoken to him.”

And Dick had anticipated that objection, but he’d hoped it was nothing to worry about, that Bruce would have said he was paranoid for even thinking Jason wouldn’t accept his new idea.

“You’re right. I haven’t talked to him about it, so please don’t say anything. I’ll explain everything to him, but, I just— I want him to have Robin to himself. He’s a good hero, and I don’t want him to have to be like my backup. He deserves better than that.”

Bruce grunted again, but this one was more of a confirmation, Dick thought.

“I agree.”

Batman stalked off more so than Bruce, even though he was no longer in costume. Dick sat down at the batcomputer.

Telling Jason was his main reserve. Telling Alfred had been easy; he’d helped Dick design the suit after getting the name from Clark. Telling Bruce had been nerve wracking, but it had already gone much better than Dick had expected. He had no clue how Jason would react.

And Dick _so_ wanted him to react well. He didn’t want Jason to misunderstand, didn’t want him to think Dick didn’t care. Because Dick cared more than he could possibly explain, more than he could dare to tell Jason if he wanted to keep their unfolding friendship.

Like most things in Dick’s life, it went exactly how he’d feared.

“I don’t care what you do, Dick. Just take your new dumbass costume and fuck off!”

“Jason, I just—”

“Save it! I’m sorry that it sucks so much to have to share the role with me, okay? I can be Robin without you. I don’t need you!”

A stable hand on his shoulder was the only thing that kept Dick from running after him.

“Let him calm down first, Dick,” Bruce said. “He’s just upset. You two were becoming a team, remember?”

Dick sighed. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought he might want it to himself! I thought I made that clear!”

“I understand. Give him time.”

 _I’ll tell him tomorrow_ , Dick thought. _I’ll tell him how I feel, and then he’ll understand why I did it._

Dick left the next morning for a last minute mission off-planet.

By the time he got back, Jason was dead.

* * *

Damian had decided early on that Drake was a failure and a disappointment, which was why he found himself outside Drake’s bedroom door, loath to knock. By the time he worked up the… resolution, not courage, he was startled by the sight of Drake’s face peering down at him, the door having been opened during Damian’s momentary indecision.

“You want something? You’ve been standing out here for, like, seven minutes.” Drake glanced down at his watch, and Damian wondered if he had a timer on it somewhere.

“Tt. Nevermind,” he scoffed, already turning on his heel to leave, but Drake grabbed his arm.

“You’re already here. What do you want?”

His tone suggested impatience, and Damian steeled himself before blurting out, “What’s wrong with Grayson?”

“With Dick?” Drake’s face softened in understanding. “Oh. Right. I forgot you wouldn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“It’s the day.”

“Yes, the day the second Robin died, I have already been informed. But why is Grayson acting so… odd,” Damian settled on, growing rather impatient himself. Drake cocked his head a little before turning back into his room and gesturing for Damian to follow. He closed the door without asking, feeling they were about to have a private conversation.

Drake was seated in his desk chair when Damian turned back around, so he opted to sit on the corner of the bed where he could face him.

“Will you explain now?”

“This information is all my own speculation, just so you know,” Drake said seriously. “I’m a good detective, and I think I’m right, but Dick’s never confirmed any of this.”

“Tt. Okay, just tell me.”

Drake took another deep breath, stalling. “I think Dick and Ja— the second Robin were close.”

“Close?”

“Dating.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I guess maybe they weren’t actually together,” he rushed to say, “but at the very least, I’m almost positive Dick had feelings for him. That’s why he gets so ‘odd’ as you put it.”

“Oh.” Damian thought some more. “Can I see him?”

“See who?”

“The second Robin,” he snapped. For a family of detectives they could be a bit dense. And he’d wanted to see a picture of him since the day he set foot in this godforsaken city. Damian didn’t know why, but he felt some kind of pull to the dead hero.

“I can pull one up,” Drake said and turned back to his computer. A few clicks later and he had a photo fullscreened, a picture of him in full Robin costume sans mask, sitting on the chair in front of the batcomputer. Dick was leaning over his shoulder and smiling.

Damian sucked in a sharp breath, not only because he was finally seeing the face of the elusive second Robin, but also because he _recognized_ him. It was Jason, it was his brother.

“That is the second Robin?” Damian asked, mostly because he didn’t know what else to ask. He should have seen this coming, but he hadn’t, and it frustrated him to no end. Everything Akhi had so skillfully avoided telling him fell into its rightful place in the puzzle.

“Yeah. His name was Jason Todd.” Damian already knew that, but he nodded as if appreciated the new information.

“You said Grayson was in love with him?”

“I think so. I think he still is.”

Damian looked up sharply. “Still is?”

“Well, yeah.” Drake shrugged. “Barbara broke up with him because she said she didn’t want to compete with a dead guy. Or at least that’s what I heard.”

Damian didn’t know if he could trust that information to be accurate, but either way it presented some new complications. He wished he’d never sworn to Jason that he’d keep his identity secret.

Weeks passed. The little family Damian had been forced to join slowly, begrudgingly, became one of his choosing. He joined them on patrol more often than his father liked and spent most of his time swinging around the city with Grayson, the only one he’d feigned to officially name family for now.

It took months for them to let him go out alone. Months of training, of protesting he already possessed the necessary skills, of being proven wrong by Grayson on the mats every time. And so the one time he had the chance to fly by himself, he took it, Grayson going off to do his own thing, leaving Damian behind to protect the little portion of the city that had been mapped out for him.

He spent all of ten minutes by himself before he froze.

There was a figure on the roof below him, tall and imposing, dressed in a long, blood red cloak. His face was obstructed by a hood, but that didn’t matter. He knew who it was, and in that moment nothing could prevent him from swinging down and running towards him with the kind of joy only found in children.

He halted at the sight of a katana being leveled directly at his throat. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe it wasn’t him.

“I thought I told you not to become Robin,” the person said, and relief and affection flooded Damian’s body, almost enough to make him shudder.

“And I thought I told you to stay in touch,” he shot back.

“Touché.”

The stranger who wasn’t a stranger anymore sheathed his sword and knelt, and Damian took that as an open invitation to approach him. He pushed the hood of the red cloak away from his brother’s face and rested his hands on his cheeks. “I missed you,” he said solemnly, and Jason nodded, his eyes looking a little watery, which Damian had the grace not to mention. Strong arms wrapped around him, enveloping him in that feeling of safety that he’d missed so much, that only came from one person. And then Jason pulled away and rose from his position, grabbing hold of Damian’s hand as if intent on dragging him away.

“As much as I want to catch up with you now, we can leave now, Dami.”

“What? Leave where?”

“All the stuff with the League is over. You don’t need Batman’s protection anymore. You can come and live with me at the Chamber of All—”

“No! I don’t want to leave! I want to stay here!” Damian dropped his hands from Jason’s face, suddenly irritated with him.

“Dami, we have to go,” he insisted, but Damian glared up at him.

“My family is here. I want to stay with my family.”

“I thought I was your family,” Jason said darkly.

“You are! But so are they. I want to stay here, and I want you to stay too.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Dami, they’ve moved on. There’s no point. I don’t belong here anymore.”

“Bullshit!”

“Language,” Jason chided idly, allowing a small smile at the irony.

“They miss you!” Damian continued, desperate to make him see. “They've missed you for six years, and if you don’t think they’d be ecstatic to have you back again, then you’re wrong.”

“They’ve moved on!”

“Of course they have! They thought you were dead! Would you rather them dissolve into their grief and lose themselves?”

“Of course not! I’m just saying there’s no point in me reinserting myself into their lives, and—” He stopped. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“As much as I’ve wanted to, I honored your request, Akhi. They do not know,” Damian scoffed.

Jason relaxed his stance in a way Damian noticed he only did around him.

“They’ve moved on,” he repeated, and this time, it was sadder and full of a type of longing that couldn’t be put into words.

Damian considered his options carefully before weighing what he felt was the correct one. “He still loves you.”

That got Jason’s attention again, but the light in his eyes disappeared quickly, the blank expression that replaced it a defense mechanism Damian had seen him use before. “He’s moved on most of all, Dami, don’t you think I know that?”

It was even sadder than before, and suddenly the pieces clicked into place, the realization of what his brother must have seen a year and a half ago shockingly clear. “He’s not married!” Damian blurted out before he could stop himself.

“What?”

“He’s not married. I forgot that he and Gordon were engaged when you dropped me off, but they broke it off not even a month after I’d come. Apparently she didn’t think he would ever be able to get over _you_ , but those were Drake’s words, so the information is secondhand at best.”

Jason looked like he didn’t know how to process this sudden news but was saved further consideration when Grayson himself dropped silently behind him, in full Nightwing attire and looking to Damian questionably. He clearly did not know who was in front of him, both Damian’s Akhi and his own dead love.

“Robin, what’s going on?” He addressed Damian, but his eyes were trained on the back of Jason’s head, as if trying to determine a threat level.

Instead of answering him, Damian looked his brother in the eye and said, “If you do not tell him, Akhi, I will. I’m tired of keeping your secrets.”

Jason leveled him with a steely eyed look, and it struck Damian that his eyes didn’t look nearly as green as he remembered. He turned around slowly, allowing Grayson the time to examine the face in front of him until recognition struck.

“Jason?” It was said in awe and disbelief and maybe a little bit of hope.

“Hey Dickiebird.” It was said wearily but with a fondness that couldn’t be hidden, and Damian knew they’d be okay. He left silently.

As they made their way back to his apartment—thankfully it was close by—Dick could only wonder how he’d allowed Jason, _Jason_ , to put off any kind of reunion. He’d been too startled in the moment to do anything but comply, and Jason’s reasoning that this moment was too private to be had on a rooftop was sound.

Dick focused his thoughts and his energy of flying, on making the jumps between buildings with as much grace as possible, because he knew if he let his mind wander he just might stumble and fall. Not that he wouldn’t trust Jason to catch him. Jason would always be there to catch him because Jason was _alive_. Dick felt himself audibly gasp at the belated realization. He would have lost his balance, except he found himself clinging to the fire escape outside his apartment window. Muscle memory had brought him there.

Dick turned, almost afraid that Jason would be gone, disappearing the moment he looked back, like Orpheus and his lover Eurydice, who vanished only to return to Hades.

But Jason was there, his arrival just as silent as Dick’s had been, a testament to where he’d been all these years. Dick could only assume he’d trained with the League of Assassins, what with his relationship to Damian. The boy had called him Akhi on the roof, and that was another shocking revelation that Dick could dwell more on later.

Working the window open, he gestured inside, allowing Jason, _Jason_ , he reminded himself, to follow. Once they were both inside, he pulled his domino off—he didn’t want any kind of mask on for this conversation. Jason lowered his hood.

“Care to explain?” It was said stiffly.

“Do you want to sit down for this conversation?”

“Not really.”

Jason drew a breath. It was steady and calm, but Dick got the impression he was using it to hide his own apprehension. “What do you want me to say, Dick?” He asked quietly, gently. “I’m alive. I was with the League of Assassin’s for a while. Now I’m with the All-Caste.”

“How?” Dick asked before he could continue with meaningless descriptions of what he’d been doing. Dick didn’t care about that, at least not right now.

The question was vague, but Jason knew what he was referring to. “I don’t know. All I know is one moment I’m staring down that timer, next thing I know I’m six feet under and crawling out of my own grave.”

“When?” Dick stopped him again.

“About three months after.”

There was a guttural noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob, and it took Dick a moment to realize it had come from him. “At three months I was still crying myself to sleep every night in your bed!”

Jason had the prudence to look, if not ashamed, at least remorseful. “I wasn’t totally there when I came back,” he explained. “My brain was messed up, blunt force trauma from before I died. I don’t remember a lot from those first few days.”

Dick stayed silent this time, giving him the chance to finish the story.

“Talia found me. I think she was watching Bruce at the time, looking for things to hold over him and all. She just happened to be the first to notice me.” Jason cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He didn’t want to tell this story, Dick realized, but he made him anyway. “She threw me in a Lazarus Pit to fix my head. And it worked from a purely medical standpoint, but I went a little crazy after that. She realized that too, that’s why she let me look after Damian. Something to ground me. It ended up helping both of us, more than she could’ve guessed.”

Dick crossed his arms. His suit was beginning to get uncomfortable; he hated wearing it for this long, but he wasn’t going to change anytime soon. There was still so much he needed to know.

“Why did you never come back?” He tried to say it without any accusation but wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

Jason, to his credit, looked as if he’d anticipated this question more than anything else. His answer was rehearsed. “At first, I wasn’t in the best place mentally and didn’t want to come back. Then, I had a reason to stay.”

“Damian.”

“Yeah.”

It was satisfactory, except— 

“What about when Damian came here? Why didn’t you come with him?”

Jason fiddled with the edges of his cloak, and Dick suddenly felt bad for making this conversation happen standing but not enough to offer a chair.

“It happened so fast, I didn’t even know he was leaving till the day before. Talia let me escort him, but I was supposed to come straight back.” He paused. “I thought about just staying, about coming home. But. I saw you, I dunno, moved on, I guess.”

A weighty silence settled on the room, and Dick thought something might shatter in that moment.

“You think I’ve moved on?” He asked, not caring how his voice almost broke. “I’ve been in love with you since I was 16, and I _never_ moved on! I can still remember the day I found out that you’d, that you were— I’d been on a Titans mission, and I remember I was planning on telling you how I felt when I got back and asking you out!”

Jason’s eyes widened slightly at the confession, but he didn’t interrupt. Maybe he could tell that Dick needed this. He’d always been good at reading him.

“I got back a day early, and I remember running through the Manor calling your name, I wanted to tell you as soon as possible before I lost my nerve. I checked the library first, then the kitchen, and then finally your room. You weren’t there, but when I turned around, Bruce was. And he looked so serious, so solemn, that I just _knew_ something was wrong, especially when he sat down on the bed with me.” Dick took a steadying breath before letting out a breathy laugh. “I remember thinking that he was going to tell me that you’d gotten a girlfriend or boyfriend while I was gone. That was the worst thing I could possibly think of! It didn’t even cross my mind that you might be...”

Dick was crying now, but he didn’t care, just let the tears fall freely down his face. Jason made no move to wipe them away.

“I slept in your bed every night, I wore your sweatshirts, I fought with Bruce like crazy and then with Tim when he first came. Thankfully I got my head out of my ass in time to realize he’s actually pretty great.” Jason cracked a smile at that.  
“How could you possibly think I’d _ever_ move on from you, Jason?” Dick pleaded, and he was met with only a sad look, and maybe there was something he was missing.

“You were engaged when I brought Dami.” Jason didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

Dick could physically feel his face fall, and he tried to cover up the horror of that admission (as well as the pure joy of the possibility that Jason felt the same) as quickly as possible. “We never got married!” He rushed to say. “Babs broke it off because—”

“I know. Damian told me.”

“Oh.”

Neither spoke, and Dick was grateful for the silence because it gave him a chance to consider everything that had just been dropped on him. He thought about not forgiving Jason for staying away, about asking him more about Damian and what he’d been doing the past five years, about how much he’d regretted not kissing him before he’d died. He made up his mind.

In two strides Dick closed the distance between them, his hands coming up to curl around Jason’s neck. Before Jason could react, Dick was already leaning in, now closing the distance between their mouths and trying so hard to put all the emotions he’d felt ever since he’d met Jason so long ago into that kiss. It wasn’t how Dick had always dreamed it would be, but it was perfect in its own right because it was real. Jason’s lips were soft and his body was warm and his arms were slowly pushing Dick away from him.

Dick thought he might’ve looked sad, but he was too busy avoiding Jason’s eyes to tell. His arms were still around his neck, and neither made any move to change that.

“I’m not the same person you fell in love with, Dick.”

Dick refused to fall for that argument. “Neither am I. People change. It’s not like I don’t know that,” he said defensively.

Jason sighed. “I know, Dick. Of course, you’ve changed, but I think it’s safe to say I’ve changed more. I _died_ , okay? And then I came back to life, was dunked in a Lazarus Pit, and spent the next few years training to kill. I’m a completely different person.”

He made the points as if he wanted to argue, to yell and fight over it, but Dick looked in his eyes this time, and they were tired. No fight at all, just weariness.

He was quiet when he answered, “Then I’ll just have to get to know you again.”

Jason met his eyes, and Dick felt a little spark of something roll through his chest and down the stripes painted on his sleeves. “Easier said than done, Dickie.”

The familiar nickname made him smile. “I know. But I also know I’ve spent the last six years regretting not trying this with you when I had the chance. I don’t want to regret it any longer. We can go slow, whatever you want. But I know I want this. I want to try.”

It was Jason’s turn to lean in and press their lips together, and it was all Dick could do to keep from collapsing at the touch. His arms tightened around Jason’s neck, and steady hands wrapped around his waist, moving in a tantalizingly slow rhythm. As much as Dick wanted something more, as much as he couldn’t wait any longer, he didn’t want to scare Jason off, so he kept the kisses slow, deliberate. He focused on the feel of his mouth, on the hands against his body, on the fact that Jason was _here_ and Jason was kissing him. 

And when Dick went to bed that night, he fell asleep curled in the arms of the person he loved. For the first time in a long time he had hope.

A patch of sunlight shining directly on his eyes woke Dick the next morning. He squinted a little, his drowsy brain struggling to catch up with the speed at which his body awoke. There was an arm slung over his stomach and a warm body at his back. It took Dick a moment, but memories of the boy he’d been mourning for years showing up again—and not as a boy—permeated every inch of mind. Dick rolled over sharply, bringing his own face breaths away from Jason’s.

Jason.

Green eyes fluttered open, and Dick couldn’t contain himself now that Jason was awake. He leaned in and kissed him hard on the mouth before his eyes had even adjusted to the light, but Jason reciprocated quickly, the kisses waking him up faster than coffee ever could have.

“You’re alive,” Dick muttered into his mouth. “You’re here. It wasn’t a dream.”

“Did you think it was?” Jason broke the kiss to ask that, which frustrated Dick, so he rolled onto his back, pulling Jason overtop of him.

“Wouldn’t have been surprised. I’ve had plenty where you came back, or you never died. But I always woke up alone.” 

“Not alone this time,” Jason said and leaned down to kiss him again.

Dick quickly lost track of the time. The only thing that mattered to him in every one of those moments was Jason’s lips on his, Jason’s arms wrapped around him, Jason’s eyes trained on him and him alone. Dick shuddered.

“We should get dressed,” he said in between kisses, but Jason’s hands were threading through his hair now.

“Later.”

“It is later,” but Dick couldn’t really find it in himself to argue. They didn’t get up.

By the time afternoon rolled around, they’d made it out of bed but spent twice the usual amount of time getting ready. Dick could hardly focus on making lunch when he kept getting distracted every time his eyes landed on Jason.

Most of the morning was spent making out.

“Does anyone else know?” Dick finally thought to ask as they sat at his tiny kitchen table eating paninis that Dick had creatively whipped up. He needed to get to the grocery soon, but he had sandwich materials still, so it had worked out. And Jason didn’t seem all that picky—he certainly hadn’t been when he was young.

“Obviously Damian, and everyone else at the League, but that’s it.”

Dick didn’t like the thought that the League of Assassins had known about Jason while he hadn’t, but it confirmed what he’d wanted to know. “So Bruce doesn’t.”

“No.”

Jason’s eyes flicked downwards towards his sandwich, and Dick couldn’t help but think there was something behind that statement, something he couldn’t understand because maybe he didn’t understand Jason anymore.

“Maybe we could head to the Manor later,” he said slowly, erring on the side of caution. Jason tensed but betrayed no emotion.

“You sure about that?”

Dick had never been more sure about anything.

“Of course, Jay. Bruce and- And god, _Alfred_ ’ll want to see you! As much as I want to keep you to myself, there’s no way I could hide this from them, even for a day!”

Jason nodded, as if he’d been expecting as much, and Dick was sad to see that he didn’t look particularly happy.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, reaching across the table to take his hand. Jason put his sandwich back onto the plate.

“Nothing.”

Dick levelled his gaze at him, and Jason broke. “Look, it’s just— I’m not sure I’m ready to see Bruce.”

“Why not?”

“Because he—” Jason cut himself off and abruptly looked away, studying the corner of the couch with a heavy intensity.

“Because he what, Jay?” Dick prodded.

Jason fidgeted in his chair, the signs of discomfort becoming more pronounced as the silenced lengthened. “Because he left me to die,” he whispered. “And then he didn’t even kill the guy who did it.”

It wasn’t entirely unexpected, but Dick found himself a little blindsided by the second admission.

“Bruce mourned you, Jason. He was devastated when you died. We all were!”

“I don’t care if he was devastated! It obviously didn’t prompt him to fucking do anything! My murderer was still walkin’ around killing people, and he did nothing!”

“He didn’t do nothing,” Dick tried to reason. “You didn’t see it! He beat the Joker within an inch of his life! He was so close to breaking his rule, Jay, so close to killing him!”

“Yeah, but he didn’t, did he? He didn’t do the one thing that might have been able to ensure everyone else’s safety. Because that’s the thing: it’s not about him or his stupid rule. It’s about everyone else who’s dying because they got in the middle of their little feud!

God, did you really think I would let Damian come to live here with that bastard still alive? No! It wasn’t about me, it was about Damian and protecting the person I cared about, and Bruce never understood that!”

Dick thought back to the moment he’d found out the Joker was dead, the horror and the relief of it all. Not even Bruce had found any evidence that led to the killer, and eventually the case had been filed away in favor of more important things. If Jason had— No, that wasn’t important right now. They could deal with this later. Right now he moved his chair close enough to touch and thought of something he could possibly say to comfort, to explain.

“Jason.” He stroked one hand over his head and threaded his fingers through the soft curls there, curls that looked exactly the same as they had lifetimes ago when they were still two boys trying to live up to impossible expectations. “I can’t speak for Bruce, but you know he has his code. It wasn’t about you; it was about him, and how he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he’d killed someone, even if that someone was the Joker.”

Jason turned his head just enough to look at Dick out of the corner of his eye. His eyes were so green. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Yeah,” he continued. “I guess _you_ couldn’t kill him because you always have to be the perfect son, and you can’t bear to let Bruce down! Not even if you knew it was the right thing to do! You just can’t disobey daddy Bats!”

Jason turned away again after spitting the last part out with a venom that didn’t seem to belong to him. Dick inhaled sharply.

“I don’t know what you remember, Jason, but I seem to recall meeting you while I was in a fight with Bruce.” He forced himself to keep his voice calm, but it was already wavering. He could see Jason wanting to interject, but he powered on before he could. “I remember barely talking to him, and when I did, it was only to yell at him until I couldn’t breathe! I remember hating you and hating Bruce, and I don’t think I did a single thing he told me to for about a year! I’m not perfect, and I have my own moral code, but it has nothing to do with B.”

A silence stretched through the kitchen, and suddenly Dick realized he wasn’t happy to have Jason there. For one solid moment, he wanted him gone.

And then it passed.

Jason sighed, and the sound of it was something broken. “I just don’t get it,” he admitted softly. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t kill him after everything he’d done, not just to me but to everyone in this city.”

Dick didn’t think now was the right time to tell Jason that he very nearly had killed him. It was thanks to Bruce that he didn’t have to live with that on his conscience. He resumed threading his fingers through Jason’s hair, ignoring the way he flinched at the contact this time.

“I’m not going to say I wasn’t happy when he died. But I didn’t want to be the one to do it. And maybe that makes me selfish, but…” He trailed off, letting Jason take from that what he would.

Dick focused on the motion of his hand on Jason’s head and the feel of his hair against his fingers. Jason was alive, Jason was here, and nothing was going to change that as long as Dick had a say in the matter.

The paninis were cold by the time they stood up, and, without saying a word, Jason put Dick’s jacket on over Dick’s clothes he’d borrowed, Dick got his keys and his wallet, and they left the apartment together, headed towards another unknown.

The drive to the Manor began in silence, but it only lasted until Jason got fed up and turned on the radio. Dick couldn’t help but sing along, and for a few precious moments, they were kids again, riding through the city in Dick’s car without telling Bruce that they’d left. He looked over and grinned, and Jason grinned back. And then they were there.

Jason’s grin changed into something hesitant, afraid. It was an unfamiliar expression on his face.

Walking through the front door felt different. Dick usually entered through the side, even after he’d moved out, but he suspected it was the company that made it feel so weird. Jason’s presence at his side was both freeing and suffocating at the same time. He grabbed his hand and latched on tightly before he knocked. Alfred opened the door.

It only took a few seconds for Alfred to identify the face in front of him, but, despite his eyes beginning to mist, he showed no signs of shock. Just a simple utterance of, “Master Jason, it is so good to see you again.”

Dick looked over, ready to be there in whatever way Jason needed, but he turned his head only to see Alfred enveloped in a hug, which was fondly returned. The two of them had always been close in a way that had often made Dick jealous; he should have expected this part to be the easiest.

They made it inside, finally, Alfred leaving to find Bruce just as the sound of footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

“Dick? I saw your car out the window! What are you-” Tim rounded the corner, followed closely by Steph, and when he stopped abruptly, she knocked right into him, almost causing him to lose his balance. He stumbled but caught himself on the banister, hand turning white from clutching it so hard.

“Hey Timmy.” Dick couldn’t help but laugh nervously. “So you know who Jason is, right?”

Steph was the one to answer. “Jason? Like Jason Todd? Like the second Robin Jason Todd?”

Tim was silent, and Dick watched as his eyes slowly took in the sight, pausing briefly on their intertwined hands before sliding upwards to gauge Dick’s expression, presumably. There was a long moment where neither of them spoke, and then Tim smiled, just barely.

“You better do a DNA test.”

Something in Dick unravelled at that; Tim’s approval meant more to him than he would ever have admitted.

“Yeah, whatever, it’s me, but I’ll prove it if it makes you fuckers feel better,” Jason said, and Dick clenched his hand at that, hoping the pressure would get through to him.

“Can someone explain to me what just happened?” They all turned to look at Steph, who was bouncing from one foot to the other with nervous excitement. “Is that actually dead Jason who Dick’s been pining over for forever come back to life?”

Tim snorted a laugh before slapping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. “Jeez, Steph!”

“Nah, it’s alright. It’s not like she’s wrong,” Dick said. He had to have been blushing from the heat flooding his face, but he and Jason had already talked about this. He refused to be flustered over it, even if her comment had brought with it the kind of tension that only accompanied secrets being exposed.

And then Damian showed up.

His arrival was nonchalant as he cooly walked to where Jason was standing, stopping directly behind him and tapping his shoulder. Jason bent, and Damian climbed onto his back before he stood again, riding piggyback. The whole transaction happened without a word, everyone else watching with Bat-like interest as it passed.

Tim, like usual, figured it out first. “Wait, is he Akhi?”

“Don’t call me that,” Jason said in tandem with Damian who practically hissed, “You don’t get to call him that!”

Tim didn’t look deterred. “Okay, fine, but he’s your brother you’ve been telling us all about?”

“Aw, you told them about me?” Jason cooed, and Damian looked murderous.

“I suppose I have told them a few things.”

“More like wouldn’t shut up about you,” Tim snorted. Damian scowled at him some more for good measure.

“Hey, it’s okay, Dami,” Jason said, “I told some people about you too.”

Dick could see in the way they held onto each other—Jason’s hand supporting Damian’s legs and Damian’s arms wrapped all the way around Jason's neck—that they were close. Even without all the stories he’d been told the past few months, stories he was realizing were all about Jason, the two of them had a relationship that could be seen from a mile away. They trusted each other, in a way they probably didn’t trust anyone else.

Jason’s eyes glanced away from his little brother.

When Bruce walked in, everyone went silent, all eyes turning to Jason, and Bruce’s following suit. Damian quietly clambered down from Jason’s back, moving away from the center of the room towards Alfred.

There was a moment, brief but intense, where Dick thought Bruce might not recognize Jason, where he didn’t react. And then he was crossing the room and had Jason in a hug before anyone had the chance to explain.

Jason’s arms went stiff by his side.

“Alfred said— I didn’t believe—”

Dick couldn’t hear much else, but he watched as Jason visibly relaxed while Bruce mumbled into his shoulder, arms awkwardly coming to rest around Bruce’s middle, the way he’d always hugged him when he was younger and couldn’t reach his shoulders.

Movement caught his eye. Alfred was ushering Damian and Tim and Steph from the room, and Dick didn’t want to leave—he couldn’t stand to be out of Jason’s sight after only just getting him back—but he backed out the other door, content to wait in the kitchen. He’d had Jason to himself all morning; the least he could do was let Bruce spend some time with him and adjust to his return the way Dick had already gotten the chance to.

Ten minutes passed, and then thirty, and then the hour mark hit and Dick was out of his chair and heading back in only to run into Jason in the doorway. 

He grinned. “Missed me?”

“Always.” Dick didn’t have the heart to act suave, to restrain his thoughts and protect his own feelings. Jason would be getting nothing but brutal honestly from him for the next year, Dick thought.

He pulled Jason into a hug, right there in the middle of the hallway, some small part of his mind hoping he wasn’t tired of the amount of hugs he was receiving today. But Jason wrapped Dick up in his arms, the feel of his smile pressed into his cheek.

“How’d it go with B?” Dick whispered.

“Hmm, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Better than expected,” Jason conceded, and if that was all Dick was getting, he was content with it.

“So are you gonna stay, then?”

Jason pulled back, enough to look Dick in the eyes while keeping them wrapped up together.

“Damian was patrolling alone when I showed up. I think he could do with a partner.”

Dick smiled. He was pretty sure he could deal with anything so long as Damian and Jason stayed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Epi's [tumblr](https://epistemologys.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Vivi's [tumblr](https://myvividreams.tumblr.com/)


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